


Shhh

by FudgingPastry



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, Implied Demon Kurloz, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 03:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2757068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FudgingPastry/pseuds/FudgingPastry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was the demon in my mind. I saw him everywhere I went. His name lingered on my lips as he lifted a long, thin finger to his lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shhh

He was the demon in my mind. I saw him everywhere I went. It started weeks, months ago, back when I thought that magic did not, could not exist. I remember shouting at my father, my brother, my friend, and slamming the door. I remember my back pressed against the door, my throat horse. My father shouted and banged on the door. I screamed back, my voice cracking as I tried defending against the poison my father spit at me. I slid down the door, falling to the floor with a thud and a soft, choking cry. The fists banging on the door disappeared and I heard my brother’s door close.

I remember when I looked up. I remember seeing him in my room. I remember flinching back and he was gone. I did not see him again that night.

I woke up, panting, choking, the taste of salt water lingering on my tongue. My eyes adjusted to the darkness and there he was. In shock, I flinched again. But he stayed. He stayed and he lifted a long, thin finger to his lips. And then he was gone.

My notebooks were filled with him. Every day I saw him, a silent shadow appearing suddenly as I passed a street sign, a building, a person. He never stayed long. If he lingered, it was only to press his finger to his lips. My friend caught me drawing his lips and wondered out loud to me. I never responded; he was there, his finger to his lips.

I went to a club one night and I didn’t see him. The first time in weeks and I forgot about him. I danced with a pretty girl, murmuring words into her ear.

The first time he touched me, he was cold. My skin was hot, flushed and sweating as the girl left me that night. He touched me and I flinched away. But his fingers, his long, thin fingers found my burning skin and they pressed softly. I sighed and leaned into his touch. His hand brushed down my front, light touches. I felt him lean down and I felt a cold – freezing cold – softness against my lips. And then he was gone.

The second time he touched me, he was cold. He was so cold his touches burned my skin. He touched me and my back arched and _it burned_. I bit my lip, fearing my father would find me. I was afraid he would find me naked and whimpering for cold – burning cold – touches. My head rolled back and I _felt_ him. I felt his body against mine, pressing deep into me and oh god, it hurt! It hurt where his coldness seeped into me and it left me breathless and begging for more. When he left me, I was breathless and _begging_ for more.

The third time he touched me, it was his voice that I felt. His sharp anger when I came back with a girl hanging on my arm. The way his voice curved around the girl and burrowed inside of me, so that when I moaned, I moaned for his touch. When the girl left, his voice was soft and comforting, needy and penetrating, piercing into my being and I moaned my need for him long and low.

The fourth time he touched me, it was a name. It was a name he carved into me, branding me with his signature so that all would know that I was his. It was _his_ name and I screamed _his_ name until my throat was sore.

He was the demon in my mind. I saw him everywhere I went. His name lingered on my lips as he lifted a long, thin finger to his lips.


End file.
